I don't get this. It's Labor Day Weekend, meaning that there is no school tomorrow. I ran errands yesterday, feeling perfectly normal. I bought toys (an art kit) for my sisters, a kickball which will potentially be used for a friend gathering, and a Darth Vader key chain. Practical while aesthetically pleasing (smirk).

So last night I couldn't sleep because I came down with a stupid cold. I don't understand how don't get sick when I'm actually supposed to be somewhere, like school. I do have a theory, however. I think that I am constantly fighting being sick so that I won't miss school, based on restrictions due to loss of participation points, etc. So when I finally get a "chance" to be laid on my back for a few days, it happens.

Friday, August 29, 2008

There has been another change in my schedule. US History and Multimedia were so extremely full that they (the school) had to create new sections for the subject. I was placed in each new section, so now B days I have History B3 and Multimedia B4. Sweet sauce.

So, I am totally loving my Woodshop class. It is the best thing on the entire planet (of the small part of the world that I have seen, anyway)! The sounds of the machines, the weight of the tools, the smell of burning and fresh cut wood, the solitude of just me and whatever I am setting out to make. Sigh. It's so perfect. I absolutely love it.

Multimedia is pretty great too. We started learning to use Photoshop today. I've only used it once before, fiddling around in Digital Photograph in Jr. High. The assignment is to destroy a picture to your liking, and if it works for a second assignment, well done. The first project we have is to create a movie poster for one of our favorite movies, so I decided to create a poster of Susan and Prince Caspian.

General Layout-

Susan and Caspian, each with their weapon of choice standing side by side, with Susan slightly behind the prince. Not because Susan is weak because she's a girl, but because I like the idea that Caspian will protect her when she needs it. Us girls are tough, but occasionally we need a little rescuing. It looks cooler than it sounds, so I might post it when I get it finished.

Homecoming is in two weeks. I don't think I'll get asked. I'd love to go, you know. Ah, well. Whatever happens happens.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Yeah, I added an A4 class so that I'd get more concurrent enrollment credit. Ceramics just counts as an elective, but it sounded like fun. I take it next semester after I finish Woods 1. Speaking of that, there are about 35 of us in the class, with 31 members being boys. It's great for eye candy, but still...they don't talk much once they're in the "zone" with their work. Not much get to know each other time.

Still, it's great to just look. :D

And I think that school is good and bad at the same time. I like being there, but as soon as I get home I'm a freaking basket case. I dunno what it is...I'm so stressed and for no reason. Well, homework is the reason, but it still doesn't make much sense.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

My life is over. The blissful joy of nothing to do is about to fly out the window, reducing me to a pitiful creature who wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. There is nothing left for me now, no happiness, no time, no nothing. Everything I know is going to change.

The New York air was full of excitement and lights, buzzing with activity. It was impossible to not be caught up in the amazing atmosphere. But there was one person who was the complete opposite of the confident and enthusiastic scene. A girl sat slumped against the wall of a large, flashy building. Her head was down, and her black hair hung in her eyes. A thundercloud hovered over her head, pulsing with the message of despair.

Desiree knew she had run out of luck. Ever since coming to this city, she knew she had made a mistake. Everything had been great for awhile. There was plenty of money in her pockets and plenty of opportunities to get the “big break” she’d always dreamed of. But soon the endless standing in line to audition and the constant stress had taken its toll. She had nothing now, not even a dollar for a pay phone.

I will not cry, she thought, angrily rubbing her eyes. I can do this.

But there was nothing left to do. She had nothing and nowhere to go. She couldn’t make herself go into the building she was leaning against. She couldn’t handle another failure. Desiree leaned her head back and looked up at the tall buildings that towered over her head, never ending as they touched the sky.

“Hey, kid!”

A man looked over the railing of a window below her. Desiree twisted to peer up at him. He motioned to her.

“Come in here, I want to talk to you.”

She shook her head, immediately suspicious. Her gaze returned to her knees, her thoughts back on how to get out of this mess.

The door beside her opened. The man who had called to her stuck his head out the door. She glanced at him, sniffed, and looked away. He sighed loudly and slid down to sit next to her. He said nothing, but a silent understanding emanated from him. Desiree had a strange feeling that he wanted to say something.

“Talk,” she said shortly.

“About?” he asked.

Desiree shrugged, “Whatever it is you want to talk about.”

The man laughed softly.

“My name’s Stan.”

He paused, giving her a chance to reply. When she remained quiet, he continued.
“You’ve been sitting here for three hours.”

Again, Desiree said nothing.

Stan reached a hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a photograph. He handed it to her, and she looked at him, startled.

“Hey, what are you doing with this?” she cried, “This is my picture!”

He nodded.

“You’ve got potential, kid. I saw your audition the other day. You’ve got the looks, the voice, the style. With a little help, I think you could get on your way,” Stan said.

Desiree eyed him cautiously.

“Why do you want to help me?” she asked.

Stan sighed again.

“I was a lot like you when I was a kid. Ambitious, energetic, and a little bit too arrogant, or in some cases, afraid, to ask for help. I ended up all right, but not everybody is so lucky,” he explained.

Desiree raised an eyebrow, “What has that got to do with me?”

“Well, you could at least use a hand, right?”

Desiree shook her head, “I’m fine on my own. I don’t need you.”

It was quiet again for a minute. Stan reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet.

“No. I don’t take anything from anybody,” Desiree started to say, but he forced a bill into her hand, along with a business card.

“When you feel like you’re ready, call that number. Your dreams can still come true, kid. Just don’t feel like you’ve got to do it alone.”

He stood up and went back into the building. Desiree stared at the card and the bill he had given her. She sat for a long time, just looking at the items in her hand.

Finally, she stood up. It was time to try again. She braced herself and pushed open the door. Stan sat at a desk, bent over a stack of papers. Desiree forced herself to walk to the desk. She stopped, but he didn’t look up.

“Ahem,” she said softly.

Stan looked up at her.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Desiree took a deep breath.

“Yes, you can, actually.”

She handed him the card and the picture he had given her, along with the bill. He took them from her, glanced over them, then looked at her. He smiled a bright and genuine smile.